“Junkies will always find a way. You can’t lock him in a tower for the rest of his life if he doesn’t want it.”
“I know man. ’Rents can’t let go.” Hawk shook his head.
“Must be hard for them. Your dad’s a proud guy.”
“It’s true. I’m glad they went on this run. They needed the break. I’m pulling up now so I’ll hit you up once I drag him home.”
“All right, brother.”
They disconnected, and Hawk parked his car. The gloomy weather and the run-down buildings turned the street into something out of a graphic comic. He stepped from his car, ignoring the rain as he crept around the edge of the building, shielding his eyes from the rain as he strained to focus on the shapes visible beneath the lone light in the alley. He recognized his brother’s build immediately as he turned away and lurched toward him.
“Shit!” He’d already taken something.
He allowed the dealer to slink back into the darkness and scuttle off like the cockroach he was. No need to make a bad situation worse. Rayen stumbled out of the alley and Hawk released his rage.
“What the fuck, brother.”
“S-sorry Haw…n-needed it.”
The slurred speech made him pause. Has Rayen’s luck finally worn off? “Let’s get you into the car.” He wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulder supporting his thin frame. The opiates had ravaged him. Skin and bone plastered over a six-foot-one frame with lank, limp hair, and sunken eyeballs, he looked like he had one foot in the grave. Hawk helped him sit in the passenger seat and quickly rounded the car to the driver’s side. He opened the door and cried out. Rayen’s body had begun to twitch, and his lips were blue.
“You will not OD on my watch. Damn you!” Hawk’s finger shook as he jammed the key in the ignition and turned the engine over. Pulling away from the curb he hit the gas, driving as fast as he dared to in the storm. His heart threatened to leap from his chest and bile crept up into the back of his throat. The twitches turned into violent convulsions, turning his brother into some sort of rag doll. White foam began to creep from between his lips. Hawk drove faster. Tires slid over slick surfaces and he hydroplaned, steering into the curve to right himself before he managed to pull into the cul-de-sac in front of the hospital entrance. He threw the car into park, pushed the door open and ran for the automatic doors. They opened and he prayed to the creator he wasn’t too late.
“Help me please! My brother’s overdosing!”
The waiting room burst into action as a gurney accompanied by nurses flew down the hall. A tall nurse with dark hair pulled him aside.
“Do you know what he took, when he took, and how long he’s been this way?”
“Heroin is his drug of choice and no more than fifteen, thirty minutes ago. He’d just gotten clean a few days ago.”
“Okay. We’re going to do our best to help him now, Mr.…”
“Hawk, just Hawk.”
“Hawk. The best thing you can do to help is fill out paperwork and tell us as much about his history as you can.”
He nodded, feeling helpless and totally at fault. As if he’d supplied the needle and injected his brother’s veins with the poison ripping Rayen’s life to shreds.
Twelve gut-wrenching hours later, Rayen was stable, and Hawk was done. Never again would he assume responsibility for another adult.
Yet here he was again, trying to protect another human being. This time will be different. It was a chance to redeem himself, and right a wrong that continued to haunt him.
Chapter Four
“Where are we going?” Hilary asked, eyeing Fancy suspiciously as they followed the two prospects Magic and Tex out to an SUV.
“Shopping,” Fancy said as she glanced over at Summer and exchanged a smirk.
“Why are you guys having a silent conversation right now? I don’t like being left out of the loop,” Hilary said. It was like being a third wheel. The two women were nothing like any of her friends, and they understood this strange world she’d been sucked into. Dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a plain black tank top, Hilary felt overdressed next to the girls who played up their assets.
The two were beautiful. Fancy had milky white porcelain skin, a thin frame, and silky chestnut hair that brushed her shoulder blades. Summer was the exact opposite, with a mocha-latte-colored skin tone that set off her blondish-brown curls and startling blue eyes. Their blue jeans shorts stopped high on their thighs and both wore tiny Mayhem T-shirts. Summer rocked a pair of black-lace up tennis shoes, and Fancy’s were a simple open-toe cork wedge.
“It’s nothing bad. We just know it’s not your…usual style,” Summer said sweetly.
“That’s putting it lightly,” Fancy said.
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with the way I dress,” Hilary said looking down at her clothes. For the hundredth time she wished Juliette, Joey or Evonne were with her. But she understood the need to remain separate and keep things low-key. The men would never expect her to be with Fancy and Summer. She’d tamed her locks with a straight iron and pulled the shoulder-length hair back into a low ponytail that made her feel bared to the world. You never realized how much identity rested in your hair until you made a drastic change.